


An Unexpected Side Affect

by Fic_Request_Blog



Series: Avengers Drabbles [20]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bruce Banner-centric, Colors, Other, Synesthesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:56:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9439049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fic_Request_Blog/pseuds/Fic_Request_Blog
Summary: Bruce has synethesia and probably more. A very pretty, adjective heavy slice of Avenger life.





	

It was an unexpected side affect, one of the few Bruce hadn't had at least some idea would happen. He supposed it was part of the animal, a piece that didn't quite tuck away when he was himself, like the green eyes he awoke to staring back at him in the mirror every once in a while. 

It was probably the one part of the whole thing he actually liked, the one part of the Other Guy he'd thank him for. It certainly made judging character and moods easier.

He closed his eyes, focusing. They were almost like seeing colors, the smells.

The smell of the wooden table under his fingers, deep and reminiscent of the frozen forests the pine had grown from, settled under his skin, grey and hauntingly quiet.

He could understand why dogs only saw in black and white. Bruce could have his eyes closed and still sort of see, a dog probably only needed its eyes to see which way the stick was thrown.

Tony's cologne scattered his thoughts and the table's heavy scent, pushing for attention as much as its owner, flashy and bright and red beside him. Under it was Tony, harder to catch, strong yet suggestive. There was something about it, like he was being told a secret, that always caught Bruce's attention and held it, captivated, dazzled, for just a little longer than necessary. Bruce always thought it was funny  how even without the Iron Man suit, Tony's colors still matched it.

Another drag and Bruce was fairly sure he was addicted to this, wouldn't know what he'd do without it now.

Laughter echoed through his ears, drawing his attention toward the end of the table, toward the cloud of silver billowing around Thor, growing to stuff up the room. He was sort of like a swing, in one extreme or the other, a storm cloud or a calm sea, never in the middle that he let pass by in a blur. It was impressive, could sweep Bruce along in the raging passion of emotion that always seemed to define Thor. It was an electric smell, almost metallic with the tint of rolling hills and sea foam, something that couldn't be tamed.

Breathe in. An ooze of dirty brown drifting up from the carpets spoke of spilled coffee and the muck of rainy New York streets, scuffs of leather tinting it darker as Bruce traced the scents of cleaners underlying it. 

A flash of white caught him off guard, forced him to hold his breath for just a moment.  Steve was bright even when he tamped down his presence, even when he was bored out of his mind picking at the tabletop with his fingernails, but when he stood proudly in his uniform he was brilliant, blindingly white, so right and sure and almost too much for someone used to living in the shade. Maybe that was why Bruce preferred the Steve after a hard workout, heady with sweat and heavy muscles. When he walked through the living area, Tony usually scrunched up his nose in mock horror only because he couldn't detect the satisfaction coiled up in Steve's muscles, like a snake after feeding. The smell was like the night, dark and endlessly blue, nearly black if it weren't for the brilliant stars of white flickering underneath. 

He blinked and a curl of black accidentally brushed his conscious, a shadow scuttling back to the protective ball Natasha kept curled in her abdomen. He'd been intimidated at first, the blackness unsettling until Bruce realized it was more of a cloak than a shadow, more defensive than stalking, more hiding than concealing. She kept it reigned in, hard to detect unless he was close enough, but potent, quiet, deadly if necessary, suffocating if needed.

A muddled orange drifted over to him.  Coulson's mild irritation at the young presenter was probably a lot worse than what Bruce could actually detect. He was fun. Bruce could never really be sure what he'd get with the man. It was like a rainbow that only reflected the light Phil wanted it to, another layer the man had unconsciously built to blend in. Coulson would storm through the doors of the tower, flickers of orange sparks striking against the floor with every step, a terse remark for Tony on his tongue like fire. Or sometimes a light blue washed out from him, settling jumpy nerves, nearly like a comforting hand on his arm, saying, "No danger. I'm not a threat." Bruce could never quite catch what was underneath it, under the projections of colors, something massive, dark and possessive and watching, something Bruce would shudder at it if he didn't know it was watching out for him too.

The Avengers around him began to stretch and rise, varying levels of relief flitting across their faces as the speaker all but ran from the room. Bruce would feel bad about the wisps of anxiety following the man out, but it was probably what Coulson had wanted the guy to experience anyways. 

Purple floated behind him as Clint walked past, Natasha joining him. Bruce smiled slightly as he tucked in his chair. Clint was intense, especially his gaze, the purple so much more focused in his vision. Bruce could almost trace the paths those eyes followed, raking purple gashes into anything they fixed on.

Tony took up his arm as they left the room, knocking him out of his musings, already rambling about their next project. Bruce let the red and gold dance around him as they walked away.

He always had to wonder what he himself might smell like if he could sense it, but he supposed he'd just have to let that mystery go.  



End file.
